Mask
by Kichi
Summary: TDKJoker - Joker's first few days at Arkham.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Mask

AUTHOR: Kichi

RATING: M

PAIRING (if applicable):

NOTES: NOLAN-VERSE I simply adore Heath Ledger's Joker. So should you... :D

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: The Joker's first few days at Arkham

DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, I make no money from writing this, so don't be a douche and sue me or something.

Have you ever worn the mask one-two one-two,  
M to the A to the S to the K  
Put the mask upon the face just to make the next day,  
Feds be hawkin' me  
Jokers be stalkin' me,  
I walk the streets and camouflage my identity,  
My posse in the Brooklyn wear the mask.  
My crew in the Jersey wear the mask.  
Stick up kids doing boogie woogie wear the mask.  
Yeah everybody wear the mask but how long will it last?

"Who wants to see what this piece of shit looks like without his makeup on?" The guard asked his fellows.

"No!" came a shout and the guards were upon their victim like a tidal wave. He kicked, he squirmed, thrashed, shrieked, and snarled. But his strength was useless against so many. His heart was pounding in his ears, his throat was raw from screaming, his breath was coming in quick bursts and they held him until he was worn out.

For a horrible (and slightly hilarious) moment he was reminded of the 'weepy young devotchka' from "a clockwork orange". They were doing the same thing to him, he wasn't crying (and he prayed they didn't mean to rape him), but the end result was the same. They wore him out with sheer numbers and now they could have their way with him. He giggled weakly. He was suddenly boneless with exhaustion, his head lolled back and another chuckle escaped him.

"That's a good boy, just relax." He tensed and tried vainly to get free but the guards were still holding him firmly in place.

"You- I'll kill you!" he snarled. "No!" he howled again as an orderly appeared with a bar of soap and a steaming wash cloth. He screamed as they dragged him to his knees and pushed his head down. His cries reached an ear-shattering pitch when a bucket of lukewarm water was dumped on his head.

Several hands began to scrub him at once. He snapped at their fingers with his teeth until someone grabbed him, jamming their thumb behind his jaw, under his ear. The pain was instant, and intense. He froze like a deer in head lights and after a tense moment he tried to pull away. He could barely see as suds and hot wash clothes swiped his face. Soon each pass of the wash cloth was painful as they vigorously scrubbed his skin.

"Ah!" he winced repeatedly, trying to squirm away.

"This black shit is like tar." one snapped.

"The cheap-ass lipstick stained his face!" another chortled, and scrubbed his scars harder. He tried to jerk away, to snap his teeth but three or four men were leaning all their weight on him. If he slid any lower his throat would be pressed against the rim of the sink. He despised their momentary control over him. He howled in pain as the soap got in his eyes and mouth as he tried to wrench out of their grip.

"Serves him right." one muttered. Finally the tap was shut off and a dry towel was rubbed in his face. His cries of indignant fury were smothered. As soon as the towel was gone his dropped his head, stared at the floor, and refused to meet anyone's gaze. Instantly a hand tangled in his hair and jerked his head back.

"Well fuck me runnin'! If it weren't for those scars and those teeth, he'd be a pretty little thing, wouldn't he?" there was laughter (at his expense- completely intolerable) and he hissed, his teeth bared in a snarl. His face twisted in fury and he struggled in vain.

"Andy would like him anyway." more laughter.

"I am going to kill each of you... slowly." he rasped. There was more laughter and he screeched and renewed his frenzied thrashing.

"Maybe we should let Andy have a go at him." an older male with dark hair and a mustache suggested.

"No." A man with a hint of grey in his brown hair said. "We save that for a special occasion." he leaned down so he was in the Joker's line of vision. "If he smarten's up and behaves he'll never have to worry about who Andy is." a low, angry bubble of laughter burst from the Joker, he sneered, his eyes flashing.

"You think you can scare me?" he laughed again, this time the sound was rich with pure amusement.

"I hope your not, because it's always that much more satisfying when you get knocked off that high horse, Mr. Bad-ass fuckin' killer clown. Your gonna fall like all the rest, and then your gonna realize that you ain't such hot shit after all. Your gonna be real fuckin' sorry if you don't shut that ugly mouth of yours." He followed his statement with a swift punch in the face. Blood began to leak out of the younger man's nose almost instantly. He cursed in agony which turned into a shuddering laugh as his eyes began to water.

"Dead.. All of you." he laughed slowly. What followed was a beating even the batman couldn't deliver. The Joker mused that if he'd had eight legs and arms and was using nearly every one to beat him at the same time- no problem, but then he'd be a Hindu god- right? He giggled senselessly as the guards beat him, which turned into a choked gasp as a boot rammed into his stomach.

*****

He regained consciousness as they were carrying him to his room. The sudden, intense onslaught of pain sent a moan of agony past his unwilling lips.

"Hey, he's up. Let's throw him in Andy's room for a bit-"

"Gary said 'No', Jake. Besides, if we do that he won't survive the night. I don't want to get in trouble. Let's toss him in there when he heals."

"Fine.." the one named Jake mumbled and let go of the Joker's legs. He unlocked the door, swung it wide, and grabbed the barely-conscious man's legs. They hauled him inside and tossed him on the bed, then each began to put his ankles and wrists in restraints. He was in far too much pain to fight them. He closed his eyes.

*****

He woke to intense light burning his retinas. He quickly shut his eyes again, but a horrible, pounding headache swiftly followed. His mouth hung open as the rest of his body began to throb in agony. He tried to move and felt thick cuffs of leather around his wrists and ankles and a heavy leather belt over his waist, pinning him down. He turned his head to glance around the white room. There was a single heavily barred window behind him, he could just see the top of it if he tipped his head all the way back. He groaned aloud as fierce pain swept through him when he moved.

Suddenly he heard rusty hinges squeaking and then a ringing clang. He raised his head and saw someone looking at him through a small 5" by 8" window on the door. He let his head drop back as a surge of powerful, uncomfortable emotions swept through him. He heard voices on the other side of the door. Someone mentioning his name. He turned his face away. His eyes began to burn, and the realization sent a blast of hot rage flowing through him. He tugged his restraints. He kicked his feet. He was restrained rather well. There was only one thing he could do. He sucked in a lungful of air and began to scream.

He screamed again as soon as he drew in enough air. So loud were his cries that he didn't hear the bolts in the door being turned. Suddenly the face behind the door was hovering above him as he struggled violently.

"Son, you need to calm down, or I'll have to administer a sedative." The Joker was beyond words. He spat at the man and continued to writhe, howling uselessly. Suddenly the room was filling with more doctors staring down at him. He twisted and tugged at his restraints.

"I want my makeup!" he suddenly roared, his shoulders lifting off the mattress as he shrieked.

"Nurse." the first doctor said, and a young woman maneuvered around the others with a small bottle and a syringe.

"Get away!" he bellowed, his eyes widening. He did not want them pumping him full of drugs. They usually affected him differently then they were meant to, with symptoms ranging from no effect whatsoever to horrible vertigo and illness. "No! No!" he cringed, trying to squirm away.

"We need his arm." The doctor said, ignoring him. He felt someone put their hands on his shoulders and push him down with ease, despite his struggling. The lovely, young nurse tied a strip of rubber around his forearm. He snapped his teeth at her, but she was already done and pulling back. The doctor drew close and he felt the sting of the small needle. The grip on him eased off at once, and he lay gasping for a moment.

Suddenly he felt good. Not just sort of good- really, really good.

"Oh..." he moaned softly, the strength instantly went out of him, his head fell back and he closed his eyes.

*****

He woke slowly. At first he could not open his eyes and struggled briefly before giving up and slipping back into unconsciousness. When he was finally able to force the heavy lids upward the room was dark. His jaw dropped when he realized he'd lost a whole day. Then he felt vomit rising up in his throat. He quickly turned his head and vomit shot out of his mouth. He lay still for a moment, shuddering, gasping painfully. His stomach felt like it was full of writhing snakes and he grit his teeth as he shivered. The stench of bile and digested food made him retch again and in his misery he thought of the Batman. Sudden and fierce hatred welled up. If the bastard had not stopped his fall he would not be there fighting with sickness and spinning walls. His stomach heaved again and he gagged hoarsely, but apparently he had nothing left to expel. His head fell back onto the pillow and his eyes slid shut. Then the dizziness grew much worse.

"Oh!" he gasped, his eyes snapping open. His stomach lurched again and he again twisted to his side, retching violently. Bitter bile spattered across his sheets.

For several minutes he lay quietly, desperately trying to will the sickness away. His eyes rolled up in his head as another wave of dizziness hit. "Shit," he groaned in dismay. "Oh, shit.." He weakly tugged at his restraints, a low moan of pain and rage escaped him as he realized the futility of his actions. He kicked his feet and tried to lift himself off the mattress, but he only was able to rise up an inch or so. His features twisted in agony as his stomach gurgled unpleasantly again. He hated sickness! He preferred a beating any day. "Stop, please stop." he begged, but he was fairly certain he still had hours of misery ahead of him.

*****

He was awake when two orderlies entered his room. The room had finally ceased spinning and his stomach had finally calmed, but he was still spattered with vomit as was the floor and his bed.

"Jesus H. Christ!" one of the orderlies groaned, and began to choke. The Joker laughed weakly.

"This isn't _my_ fault." he rasped, his throat raw. The men stormed out, slamming the door shut behind them. "You gotta be kidding me.." he murmured in shock. "You ass holes can't leave me like this!" He was about to begin a frenzied struggle to escape when he saw a face peering in the window. It opened swiftly and the men re-entered. One had a tazer gun and the other quickly began to undo the buckles holding him in place. His breath began to quicken. He did not look forward to finding out just what it felt like to be zapped, but he had to get the hell out immediately. He waited until his legs were free before he snatched the tazer free from the guard's numb grasp and plunged it into the throat of the man releasing him. He felt the other man hitting him again and again and jammed the tazer into his solar plexus. He watched them fall even as his head spun. He shook his head and quickly finished undoing the buckle across his waist. He swung his legs over the edge of his bed and the moment he put his weight on them they crumpled beneath him like straw. He gasped in shock as he collided with the floor, momentarily unsure how it had happened. He heard people in the hallway, he had to get up. He pushed himself up on trembling arms and pulled his knees up, then he rose, shaking violently.

The world spun and for the first time he wondered what the hell they had given him. He felt a hand on his ankle and he almost collapsed again. The man released him and recoiled when he saw the tazer still in Joker's hand and quickly descending, but the drugged young man was still quick. The man jerked violently beneath him and the loud crackling the gun emitted was eliciting murmurs from those outside. He clutched the tazer and stumbled to the door.

As soon as he peeked outside he heard cries of alarm. For a moment he considered holding the guards hostage, but decided to make a run for it instead as a burst of adrenaline raced through him. He pounded down the hallway, nurses screaming and hiding the moment they saw him. He burst into their station and grabbed the smallest one by the hair.

"Gimme keys!" he roared and began to frantically search her pockets. Then he saw them hiding in her uniform attached to a chain. He yanked them off, giggling at her cry of pain. He heard people coming and leapt to his feet and ran to the door. He cursed as he fumbled with the keys, none fitting until at last he found the one, breaking it in his haste to get it out of the lock. He slammed the door shut behind him and ran.

Up ahead he saw elevators and his eyes scanned quickly for the stairs. He saw the exit sign and flew towards it, his lungs burning. He almost fell down the stairs in his haste and for a moment he clutched the railing, gasping for air. He heard someone pounding on a door and a breathless chuckle escaped him. He continued down.

After his third flight he was starting to get clumsier. Then he heard a door open as looked down and saw guards running in. He gasped and spun around and headed back up to a door he'd just passed. There were more waiting for him.

"No!" he cried. His brain understood the futility of his escape attempt before he would consciously allow and when his legs gave out he shrieked in rage. The cry echoed monstrously in the stairwell along with the tread of the guards who advanced upon him.

They grabbed him and hauled him to his feet when they realized he was already spent. He was too tired and drugged up to fight anymore. The guards ended up half-carrying, half-dragging him back to his cell.

He had long since regained his breath and stared at the room with fierce loathing. His sheets had been changed and he saw a new set of the detested white hospital pajamas. Most of the guards stayed outside the room but the two that still supported him began to quickly undress him. He was instantly tense again and wanted to scream, but he was too exhausted to do more then snarl and gnash his teeth.

The tossed him on the bed like he weighed nothing and quickly strapped him down. He began to kick his legs the moment they pinned his wrists down, but two more guards quickly entered the room and caught his feet. He tried to free himself, but he knew it was pointless. He stiffened as the weight of his helplessness came crashing down.

"Are you ready to behave now? Or do we need to sedate you again? Might I remind you, it's been nearly 36 hours since you've eaten. You need food immediately. Can you behave and eat or must we use an IV?" His stomach roared loud enough for those in his room to hear. Their quiet laughter sent him into a fit of rage. He roared in fury and began to thrash wildly until he heard to door slam shut. Then he fell back, gasping. He was alone. He hadn't realized how hungry he was, he'd been too busy puking his guts out. But he was suddenly all too aware of the gnawing ache in his belly. It was yet another pain he had to deal with. He was good at fighting pain, ignoring it. He'd been treated far worse than this, and yet... For awhile there he had been free. Truly, blissfully free. Now he was in a cage, tied to a bed, beaten, drugged, and starving.

"This is... Bull shit." he moaned, his voice breaking as he struggled not to give in to his weaker emotions. But it was useless. His eyes began to burn, and the more he fought it, the quicker the moisture built up until it overflowed and slid down his temples and into his hair. The face everyone had come to dread had fallen away to reveal a tortured young man. He struggled to put the emotions away, bottle them up like he always did. Only anger and hatred were allowed- they served a purpose. His dark humor that mocked everything right and good was wilting beneath the weight of his fury. He closed his eyes, hating the warm tears dripping from them. "You did this to me." he thought again of the bat, his lips curled in a snarl. "I'll make you cry... Just you wait."

A/N: I might add a second part to this or just do another one-shot. Either way I have more ideas, but I think I've tortured him enough for now.


	2. Chapter 2

TITLE: Mask

AUTHOR: Kichi

RATING: M

PAIRING (if applicable):

NOTES: NOLAN-VERSE I simply adore Heath Ledger's Joker. So should you... :D

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: The Joker's first few days at Arkham

DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, I make no money from writing this, so don't be a douche and sue me or something. The lyrics belong to Fugees

A/N: 4ofCups this is for u!

M to the A to the S to the K,  
Put the mask up on the face just to make the next day.  
Brothers be gaming, Ladies be claiming.  
I walk the streets and camouflage my identity.  
My posse Uptown wear the mask.  
My crew in the Queens wear the mask.  
Stick up kids with the Tommy Hil wear the mask.  
Yeah everybody wear the mask but how long will it last?

He was shoveling food into his mouth so fast he'd already choked several times. Hunger had brushed off what manners he did bother to observe. He had abandoned the plastic cutlery and used his hands, actually biting a few fingers when his teeth snapped quicker than the digits could withdraw. He hummed quietly as he ate. Finally released from at least one pain, his mood had improved greatly. No sooner had he finished before the door opened again and two orderlies entered. His first inclination was to spring to his feet and charge, biting and clawing. But he was still held down by the ankle-cuffs and the thick leather strap across his waist. So instead he chugged his milk, one eye one them as they entered.

"Ah!" he said, smacking his lips in satisfaction. As the taller orderly went to grab his tray he swatted it off his lap and onto the floor. The men didn't react other than slight surprise and continued as they'd been, reaching to undo his restraints.

"The doctors want to speak to you." the short one said, grabbing one of his wrists firmly and snapping a hand cuff around it.

"Yes, ok." he snapped back automatically. The men eyed each other in confusion at his severe composure. His face seemed set in stone. They secured ankle cuffs and a chain around his waist and cuffed his other hand. They each grabbed an elbow and led him down the hall.

He scowled in anger. He did not want to be poked and prodded by doctors. He did not want to answer their questions. They would want to know his real name, what his family had been like- every stupid detail of his worthless and unmemorable past. Wouldn't they be pissed when they realized he didn't know any more than they did? He hoped so.

He couldn't help but try to look at the other inmates through their tiny windows, but only caught glimpses. The cries he heard were muted. He grit his teeth in annoyance as they took him to the elevator. On the next floor down they reached their destination. A rather large room with a long fold up table with several chairs on one side of it. Another chair sat across the room. The guards led him to it and pushed him down into the seat. They quickly secured his waist chain with another chain that was bolted to the floor. They then retreated to stand on either side of the door.

After only a few minutes the doctors began to enter in groups. Soon there were eight in all seated behind the long table.

"We estimate your date of birth to be around 1977 and 1981, is this correct?" The man was in his late thirties at the least, he wore thick, square glasses, and his ash blonde hair was parted to the side. Each doctor, both male and female, peered at him with keen fascination. His tongue slowly slid across his upper lip and one eyebrow rose.

"Maybe."

"We need a yes or no answer, please." they seemed at once amused as a group. So they already anticipated his lack of cooperation.

"Oh, yeah, well I want my makeup.." he snarled, shaking his chains.

"We can't do that." One of the elder women said, looking repulsed as she studied him carefully. His eyes locked with hers immediately and he noted with pleasure that her pallor lightened considerably as he smiled at her and winked salaciously.

"Well then, why should I tell you anything?" One of the youngest men at the table snorted in amusement.

"We have drugs that will have you spilling your guts in minutes." The Joker chuckled quietly.

"Do it then." The older woman who had glared at him before waved dismissively at the younger doctor.

"There are few circumstances in which the use of those drugs is sanctioned by law. This is not one of them."

"We can however put you in solitary confinement until you feel more cooperative." The man with the ash blonde hair said, his expression carefully neutral. "But before we do that, let's try again, shall we?" he did not wait for the scarred patient to respond. "How about you tell us your real name?"

"The Joker is my real name." The man's eyebrow rose in incredulity, similar expressions of annoyance and unease graced the other doctor's faces as well.

"All right let's try this then, what is the name on your birth certificate?" He shrugged, his tongue darting out of his mouth to swipe his lips.

"I can't remember. It doesn't matter anyway. He's dead, pfft, gone, bye-bye."

"I think it would be best to administer a polygraph-" A middle-aged balding doctor said. "He's clearly being evasive." Several of the psychiatrists began to babble at once and he felt the first stirring of displeasure in his gut. He wanted out of the room. He detested them all. He knew what was going on inside their feeble little minds. They wanted all his secrets laid out before them to dissect. They didn't want to help him, and he certainly didn't want their help. "Help" consisted of drugging him until he was a drooling idiot with no more personality and will than a coma victim. They wanted to brain wash him into thinking there was something wrong with him, but the reality was that he was perfect as he was. He wanted out, back to his cell and solitary confinement if that was what they really thought necessary. He didn't care. He just wanted away from the fools. Immediately.

"I want- I want to go now." he said just loud enough for the guards to hear. They began to creep closer which only served to make him more edgy. He began to tug his chains violently, the sound cut through the conversation and the doctors all turned as one to stare at him. "Let me go back now." he snarled, surging to his feet, the chair falling backwards behind him. "NOW! I want to go, NOW!" he roared and as soon as he felt the guards put their hands on him he went wild. He couldn't lash out at them, but he could scream and bite and head butt. As they tackled him he began to writhe madly, screaming at the top of his lungs.

A sea of bodies descended upon him and in moments he was being crushed under their weight. It was becoming almost routine. He felt the sting of a needle and he gasped in panic.

"No! No! No more!" but it was too late. His body went limp underneath the pile of guards and orderlies.

He awoke in his room. He was again shackled to the bed. The room was spinning slowly. His stomach was rolling uneasily, but it was nothing compared to last time. He tugged each restraint, praying they were loose. They weren't.

He stayed up until dawn. When the sun had set he had though of many things to amuse himself and had laughed until he choked. Then he began to sing in his boredom what songs he did know. Many were dirty and humourous to him. He began to grow restless and tried to escape his restraints but it seemed the more he pulled the tighter they got. Eventually his hands felt like balloons that were about to pop and he gave up with a groan. He grew tired then, but just when it seemed he would drift off to sleep his eyes snapped open. It continued for what seemed like hours and soon he was slamming his head back into the mattress in the vain hope he would knock himself out. After another slow stretch of time he noticed he could see just a bit more clearly. The sky outside was a faint bluish gray. Finally weariness settled over him and he was nearly asleep when he heard keys sliding into the lock in his door. He moaned pitifully.

"God DAMN it!" he bellowed as soon as the door opened. "I just fell asleep! All night I can't sleep and you come in now!"

"You slept for two days." the tall one informed him, his voice flat. His face clouded in confusion briefly but he did not continue his tirade. Instead he contented himself with muttering angrily about the orderlies and their IQ's as they led him to another room one flight up.

Inside was a nicely furnished office with the big, fancy wooden desk and the leather couch that probably cost something ridiculous. The orderlies shoved him onto the couch and chained him to the floor. He couldn't stand without ending up in a rather shameful position. The ash-haired doctor with the thick, square glasses entered and sat behind the desk as the Joker scanned the room with his eyes for anything useful as a weapon.

"Mr.. Uh.. Joker."

"Joker is fine, if you please." he said with a disconcerting doctor began to write. Joker sat up straight, craning his neck to try and see, but he was too far away.

"Joker, my name is Dr. Jeremiah Arkham-" he was interrupted by a sharp gasp from the younger man.

"Really? Is it true your aunt and cousin were raped and murdered here? And that your uncle went crazy and was committed here?" His expression was at once alight with genuine interest. The older man's eyebrow jerked upward in annoyance.

"Yes, unfortunately-" he was again cut off by the Joker.

"Wow, your pretty lucky." he said enunciating the last two words precisely.

"How is that?" Arkham asked, seemingly unperturbed by the suggestion.

"If I had aunts and cousins I would probably want them to be raped and mutilated too." He smothered a smile as he saw the man writing furiously.

"Why is that?" he seemed a tad eager, the Joker licked his upper lip.

"You would always have an interesting story to tell. And it makes you sort of famous. I mean, I knew who you're related to didn't I, and we've only just met." He noted with pleasure that the man was a bit crestfallen by his answer. The good doctor wanted the real dirt. Well, even if he could remember more than bits and pieces (and they were terribly fucked up bits and pieces) they could torture him and he wouldn't tell. He would never tell anyone, ever.

"This is true, but tell me, you are aware that we cannot help you unless you tell us what is wrong, what has happened-"

"There isn't anything wrong with me." he said with a smile. Arkham wrote on his yellow note pad, the younger man wanted to snatch the pen out of his hand and bury it in his eyeball. And rip up the yellow note pad, crumple up the pages, and jam them down the man's throat until he choked. His tongue slid out of his mouth an prodded a scar. He saw the doctors eyes lock on them. "Are you looking at my scars?" he kept his expression bland as Arkham's eyes swiftly rose to meet his and the end of his pen quivered in anticipation. "Do you want to know how I got them?"

"If your willing to-"

"My father was a weak-willed man, and he seemed to enjoy being bossed around I guess. Because he was always bringing these mean, crazed women home. When I was twelve or thirteen he uh, married one of these skanks. And well, he didn't know it, but she had a bit of a drug problem. I woke one night when my father was out of town, he was always out of town on business, and I found her blowing lines of coke with a bunch of men- in my kitchen. She threatened me and told me to go to bed, but I couldn't. I wanted to know what they were doing. I heard strange noises much later and when I went to see what it was, hm, she had, ah, heheh." he stopped for a moment, his shoulders quivering with suppressed laughter. "She had a cock in every orifice, hehe. I was sort of stunned, I'd not even seen a woman naked yet, and it seemed kind silly to me. Actually-" he broke off laughing for a moment. "I found it so funny I almost pissed myself I was laughing so hard. And these idiots all came at me, naked, coked-up. 'He isn't laughing now is he?' the one guy said. 'You think this is funny? This is a joke to you?' that slut said- or something like it. The biggest guy had an idea and decided to teach me a lesson. He decided I needed to learn. My. Place. I was going to be the one they laughed at, so he started to cut my face. And the little cuts he made weren't enough so they found other knives, different utensils, and they tore out chunks of flesh. You know-" he paused for a moment, sitting back. "Actors can't scream like that." he said, watching the pen flutter rapidly. "You watch a movie and you know their faking it. When it really hurts, and you really scream, the difference is _incredible_." he all but moaned the last word. It was possible he was reminiscing about someone he had hurt, someone's screams he had listened to. The silence in the room was deafening. He realized the pen had stopped scratching, his eyes rose to meet Arkham's. The man looked like he was trying very hard to remain composed and calm, but he could just see the excitement in his eyes. _Got ya, sucker!_ Joker thought, stifling a giggle.

"My father, or course, was horrified. But he was afraid of taking the blame and never took me to get stitches. He didn't break down until they got infected and I had a fever. I started hallucinating. I don't remember much else. I never saw him after that. I was put in a foster home." he stared at the ground, trying his hardest not to grin like an idiot. He heard the pen scratching softly.

"How did your foster family treat you?"

"I ran away the first night I was there."

"Where did you go?"

"I hitched a ride with a truck driver. When we got to a rest stop, he pulled his dick out and I ran away. I spent the night in a barn." he shrugged. "I'm bored, this is boring." he said.

"That's fine. We can stop now. Since you've been cooperative you can listen to the radio or watch tv for an hour tonight after dinner." He was disgusted when he realized the idea actually appealed to him. This place was going to drive him nuts. But the thought of all the lies he had just spun to Arkham made his smile return, and by time he was back in his room he was laughing hysterically.

TBC..

I still have more in mind, but I just wanted to post this NOW! Lol


	3. Chapter 3

TITLE: Mask

AUTHOR: Kichi

RATING: M

PAIRING (if applicable): Joker and some crazy chick in this chapter

NOTES: NOLAN-VERSE I simply adore Heath Ledger's Joker. So should you... :D

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: The Joker's first few days at Arkham THIS CHAPTER HAS A SEX SCENE. BE WARNED.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, I make no money from writing this, so don't be a douche and sue me or something. The lyrics belong to Fugees

M to the A to the S to the K,  
Put the mask up on the face just to make the next day.  
Brothers be frontin', Then they be runnin',  
I walk the streets and camouflage my identity.  
My posse in the Bronx wear the mask  
My crew on the hour wear the mask.  
Stick up kids rollin' in the Omni wear the mask  
Yeah everybody wear the mask but how long will it last?

Chapter 3

They sat him in a large room with a bunch of mad, drooling idiots. They thought he was crazy, and then they stuck him in a room full of people who were nuttier than squirrel shit. He began to giggle. He never had any control over his laughter, he didn't want to. Some people would cover their mouth or look away when they were laughing at someone. Not him. He would laugh right in their faces. He saw an old woman who looked like a fairy-tale witch spinning in circles and singing. A young woman rocked back and forth in a chair as she stared blankly out the window. He ran up to the old woman first, stopped in front of her, pointed his finger.

She twirled right past. The urge to trip the old bat was nearly irresistible, but he didn't want to get tossed out yet. He went over to the girl in by the window. She took one look at him and shrank away in terror. He immediately burst into peals of laughter and she began to wail and pull her hair. He quickly trotted away and found a short, balding fat man. He ran up behind him and grabbed the little man's he-boobies.

"Ooh, baby!" he moaned loudly, squeezing the man's fat chest forcefully.

"Ow!" the little man screeched. Joker howled with laughter and then found a morose-looking youth who eyed him warily. He flopped down on the threadbare couch right next to the young man, wrapping an arm around the boy's thin frame and pulling him close.

"Was it one of those 'cry for help' suicide attempts, you little pussy?" then he quickly got the young man in a head lock and fiercely rubbed the boy's scalp with his knuckles. "Ha ha!" he chortled, leaping to his feet and scurrying after new prey. He was amazed no one had tried to stop him yet. Perhaps if his assaults remained mostly non-violent.. He saw a tall old man with wild white hair. He sat in a lazy boy, his violently shaking hand clutching a remote. Joker began to snatch at the remote and try to smack it out of the old man's hand. The old man growled at him. One hand rose in a claw and swiped at him. The sound of his laughter filled the entire room and some of the residents began to make their own odd little brays and screeches. His legs grew weak with mirth and he fell to the floor as he again heard an occasional growl from the old man.

When he was able to breathe normally he rose to his feet. A quick glance at the old man earned him another growl and swipe. He began to laugh again, until tears came to his eyes. He finally staggered away.

"No more.. I can't take it," he gasped, wiping his eyes.

"Don't talk to me like that, don't, don't you-! Filth. Shut up, shut up, shut up!" a man in his late thirties commanded.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up." the Joker barked in his ear as he went past.

"NO!" the man's voice rose. "YOU shut up!!" The other residents were growing louder and he could see the consternation in the faces of the nurses and orderlies. He found all the jittery patients and began to poke and prod them until they were in a frenzy. Anyone who was compulsively performing a task- he would disrupt them until they burst into a paroxysm of fear and anxiety. A man had been creating a house of cards and he had simply walked up to it and knocked it over. A woman who brushed her hair obsessively (so much that she had little left from brushing it all day, every day) had lost her brush when he'd plucked it from her hand and ran off with it.

"My brush!" she wailed, her hands opening and closing rapidly as she sought to recapture it. He giggled as he ran and then stuck it under the couch. The young man he had berated earlier was crying softly and he went and plopped down next to him, again pulling him close.

"Quit yer fuckin' crying or I'll give you something to cry about." he ordered in a guttural snarl. The boy stiffened in fear and hurriedly wiped his eyes. "Good boy. Don't be a cry baby." he said, his voice much lighter. He shot back to his feet and continued to an excessively thin young woman with long brown hair. She eyed him nervously. "Checking out my scars? They're pretty cool, huh?" he said, licking one. She nodded in jerky movements. "You like them, really?" he said, his eyes brightening. She nodded again, hesitantly. He drew close in a fluid movement. "Would you like a matching pair?" he murmured sensually. She jerked away with a gasp, her head shaking frantically. "What's wrong, girlie? Can't talk? Did your tongue shrivel up from not eating?"

"Please go away." she murmured, not daring to maintain eye contact any longer.

"You look like Skeletor!" he said and stuck his tongue out at her before he bounded away.

He saw a woman in her mid-to-late twenties giving him the eye. He was surprised he hadn't noticed her yet. She looked too normal to be in Arkham asylum. As he drew closer he noticed she was in fact, gorgeous- with a beautiful face and body and wavy, long dark hair. He winked at her and she smiled wickedly back. "Hmm.." he murmured and advanced. Probably a stalker or a schizo. Like he cared. He saw her mouth open in surprise as she got a close up look at his scars.

"Damn, baby, I'd hate to see what the other guy looks like." She purred. He unleashed a predatory grin that never failed to get the psycho girls hot. Her eyes were smoldering.

"What could a woman like you be doing in a place like this?" She bit her lower lip.

"I'm innocent!" she pouted.

"I'm not." he said, maneuvering her behind a two-foot-wide column. She allowed him to lead her, and she snuck glances over her shoulder often.

"I noticed. And yet the guards are leaving you alone." they were at the back of the room, in a dim corner, behind a support column. There was usually a guard there. It was a good hiding place for those trying to cause trouble.

"They had better. They don't like me when I'm angry." he said with a chuckle that swiftly turned into a gasp as she slid her hand down the front of his pants.

"I like you." she said with a smirk and dropped to her knees. His eyes followed her, widening as she yanked his pants and boxers down. His legs almost gave out when she wrapped her lips around him. A soft groan escaped his lips, his eyes slid shut. She began to work him like a pro. He gasped and clutched the column for support with one hand, the other quickly tangling in her hair.

"Shit." he moaned softly as she swallowed as much of his length as she could before continuing to bob and suck rapidly. He was about to lose his balance. He pulled her off of him, and joined her on the floor. Before he could do anything else she grabbed his cock and began to jerk him off. "Fuck." he hissed and pulled her close, sliding his hand into her panties and finding the moist slit. He slid a few fingers in her and she mewled in his ear. He found her clit and began to rub it, she gasped and bucked her hips. "Enough!" he snapped after a minute and spun her around, yanking her pants down and thrusting inside her. He heard her squeal, despite her hand over her mouth. He groaned in ecstacy, it had been just a tad too long, he realized as he pounded into her. And he was glad she had the foresight to keep her damned mouth shut. He rode her hard, not caring if he hurt her. He was fairly sure she was enjoying every minute of it, if her muffled groans were any indication. The minx turned her head suddenly and glanced back at him.

"Yeah, daddy, fuck me harder!" she moaned and suddenly clenched around him.

"Oh!" he gasped, thrusting faster until jolts of pleasure shot through him. He came with a soft groan and after a few more thrusts, pulled out of her and tugged his pants up with shaking hands. She did likewise and for a moment they sat staring at each other, gasping for breath.

"We should do this again some time." she said.

"Yes." he agreed and rose on wobbly legs to peek around the column. The other inmates were still going about their business, wailing, chirping, growling and the like. Had no one really noticed? He began to giggle and sank back down to his knees and immediately began to pull her shirt up. She grinned and did not deter him, a moan escaping her as he bent down and began to lick and nibble on her breasts.

"You are a bad boy." she said, groaning as he began to finger fuck her.

"Well, what have we got here?" Said a very loud and vaguely familiar voice. He jerked away from the girl, the loud man's voice jolting him out of his pleasurable haze. "Well at least we know your not queer." he sneered as the young woman yanked her shirt down and scrambled to her feet. She looked ready to bolt and the guard caught her arm. "Now Samantha, I'm disappointed in you." he said in a low voice meant only for her ears. But Joker easily heard him and sneered at the undisguised jealousy in the man's eyes. "All this time you've been nothing but a frigid bitch, and the moment you meet this freak you let him suck on your titties."

Samantha looked frightened, and she glanced at the Joker as if he'd help her. He rose on still unsteady legs. He had been enjoying her after all. And there was a pretty damn good chance he could get between those legs for as long as he wanted if he played his cards right.

"Jealous?" Joker sneered, absently sniffing his fingers and chuckling lewdly. Samantha licked her lips, her eyes locking with his again. He grinned, the girl was his for the taking whenever he wanted already, but this would cement it.

"You fucker, how does solitary sound?"

"You think I'm scared of you?" he sneered, licking a scar. The guard released Samantha and shoved Joker with all his might. He stumbled back a few steps and then rage took over.

He charged at the man, his left hand locked around his throat. His momentum flattened the man and he fell on top of him. Joker began punching before they hit the ground. Two in the face, a few in the ribs, then back to the face again. Samantha had begun to kick the felled man as well. For a moment, in his frenzy, he almost attacked her, thinking she meant to stop him. And all the while his hand remained locked around the man's throat.

Then several people were pulling him off the man, and despite his struggles- that he would never give up no matter how futile- they easily overpowered him. He saw Dr. Arkham approaching with the hated needle.

"What? He started it!" he cried out, his features flushed with exertion. The doctor merely shook his head and bore down on him, the needle rapidly descended. "No!" he groaned, his voice already growing faint as the drugs overwhelmed him.

TBC...

Holy shit I wrote 2 chapters in one day! That never happens - That's why it's so short. :D


	4. Chapter 4

TITLE: Mask

AUTHOR: Kichi

RATING: M

PAIRING (if applicable): Joker/OC (non-con)

NOTES: NOLAN-VERSE I simply adore Heath Ledger's Joker. So should you... :D

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: Ok so the first few days have begun to add up to a bit more so: Joker's first stay at Arkham.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, I make no money from writing this, so don't be a douche and sue me or something.

4 - consequences

He woke to someone repeatedly slapping him across the face. Back and forth, over and over. It was making him dizzy, the light was making him dizzy, the voice yelling at him to wake up was annoying him.

"Shut up." he groaned. He felt a hand grip his jaw.

"You little fucker, get up or I'm gonna kick you in the balls as hard as I can." That got his attention. He was a man after all, and no man wanted that. But his eyelids seemed to weigh a hundred pounds each. He groaned as he tried to force them open, his head tossed weakly. He receive another stinging slap. That seemed to help and his eyelids fluttered and slowly slid open.

"There he is. We got a present for you, clown." A familiar looking orderly with light brown hair and a short beard said. "You see, that girl you just fucked, remember her?" He remembered all right, a lazy smile spread across his face. If he played it right he could manipulate her into doing anything. Any depraved sex act, or maybe she could really be useful and be a human shield for him when he got a chance to escape. There were many possibilities...

"He remembers.. He's lucky those dentists bothered to scrape all the nasty shit off his teeth when they gave him x-rays- otherwise she wouldn't have touched you- even with that face. At least the part that isn't mutilated." There was laughter and his hazy vision slowly cleared. They were in the showers. He tensed. The showers were a good place to beat the shit out of someone, cleaning up blood was a snap. He curled his hands into fists and it was then that he realized his hands were cuffed behind his back. He tried to sit up and a boot slammed into his mid section. The air rushed out of his lungs and for several long moments all he could do was lay there gasping and choking.

"Well we have all been trying to get between those thighs, and you manage to do it in ten seconds. And then we realized that even with the scars, women seem to like you- at least, now that your cleaned up. And since we're not allowed to let you skip showers, and all residents get dental visits- especially a criminal like you with no previous records- we decided we'll just have to try and make you regret touching her."

"Jealousy is an ugly thing, boys." Joker crowed triumphantly.

"You see, we like things to be a certain way around here." he continued as if the Joker had said nothing. "There are rules that even scum bags like you have to follow. And when these rules are broken, we like to deliver punishment in a certain way. ' If a man put out the eye of another man, his eye shall be put out. If he break another man's bone, his bone shall be broken.' You get the idea?"

"So, are you gonna fuck me, then?" There was scattered laughter and a few groans of disgust.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

*****

They removed his cuffs. Perhaps to give him the illusion that he had a fair shot. Then they were on him like a tidal wave. And it seemed like they were all aiming for his back or his stomach. He tackled one and grabbed his throat with his left hand and began to punch with the right. He only got in a few shots before he was pulled off and kicked in the stomach. The air rushed from his lungs and for a moment all he could do was curl into a ball to protect himself as his lungs sought oxygen. Several boots slammed into his back. He rolled over and caught one as it came near and he sank his teeth into the man's leg. He heard a howl of pain, and sank his teeth deeper until he tasted blood.

Then it seemed he was the dance floor and the orderlies were performing a scene from 'Stomp'. They pulled him off the one he'd bitten, and blows rained upon him. He tasted blood and he wasn't sure if it was the orderlies or his own. He could barley breathe. The pain was coming in fierce bursts, he wasn't sure if it was from being hit or if it was just from the blows they'd already landed. Several more boots connected with his back and he choked in agony as he felt a bone ... shift.. Or break. The pain made the distinction irrelevant.

After that breathing was nearly impossible. Each rapid burst of air he managed to suck in was torture. Each foot that connected was just making each injury that much worse. If they didn't kill him accidentally he would be unable to move for days at best. His head was spinning slowly as he failed to draw in the necessary amount of oxygen.

Another foot hit him just under his belly button and he choked. Suddenly the white tile floor in front of him was bright red.

"Alright, enough." someone said. For a long time all he could hear was their breathing and a pitiable moan that never seemed to end. It took him a moment to realize he was the one crying in pain. "I think he might grasp the situation a little better now."

*****

They dragged him down the hall to an unfamiliar room. His head was swimming from lack of oxygen. His whole torso was covered in bruises, he knew. A rib was cracked at least, he was certain of that too. He couldn't breathe right, it hurt too much. Each exhale was a wheezing groan or a pained whimper. Each inhale was hitched and broken as he drew in small gasps. Coppery blood coated his teeth and tongue, he could feel it dribbling down his chin as well.

They dropped him on the floor and he noted with surprise that it wasn't concrete. But it still hurt terribly when he hit it. The door slammed shut behind him. One eye slid open. He was in a padded room. He slowly curled up into a ball, his body protesting with each movement.

It had been years since he'd received a beating of this magnitude. Last time he'd been thrown into his bedroom in a similar state. He knew what to expect. The shortness of breath might make him black out a few times before the pain faded. He wasn't sure the rib was broken or merely cracked. He couldn't lift his arm and the thought of touching the area made him cringe.

Perhaps a half hour had passed before the door opened. He heard a gasp, but couldn't move to see who it was. He felt hands on his shoulder trying to turn him onto his back..

"No." he rasped weakly.

"Why are you in here? You need medical attention! Who did this?" The voice was vaguely familiar. He opened his eyes and saw the middle-aged doctor with the thick, square glasses.

"Go... away." he moaned. The instant the man touched him a new wave of torment flooded him. He hated it, he hated to be the one suffering. He wanted other people to hurt. Pain wasn't something he shied from, unless it was completely incapacitating. And at the moment he couldn't force himself to move if his life depended on it. He felt the doctor's hand gently touch him and he gasped at the immediate, intense agony.

"Nurse, get a stretcher." he heard someone mumble a 'yes, sir.' and depart.

"I'm.. Fine." he ground out, the man snorted in amusement.

"No, you are not." he felt the doctor lift the back of his shirt, he attempted to pull away, but as soon as his muscles tensed to carry out the act, the pain intensified. "Jesus." he muttered. "Who did this?"

"My.. Name is.. Joker." he murmured and cringed as he heard the stretcher squeaking down the hall. The doctor chuckled quietly for a moment. "Very amusing, but I need to know who to fire."

"I'll.. Take care of them.. Later." he ground out, growing angry.

"No." the doctor all but shouted. "You must not think like that. It is wrong-"

"Shut up!" Joker screeched, then moaned softly as even raising his voice caused pain.

"We'll have to put you in a straight jacket if we even think your going to attempt some sort of retaliation. Is that what you want?" Joker's response was a cry of pain as he was picked up and dropped onto the stretcher. "Gently!" the doctor barked. "He's damaged enough- is this your handiwork?"

"No, sir." someone responded with an amused undercurrent to his voice. His back spasmed in agony and his eyes snapped shut. He felt a needle enter his flesh, and for once, he didn't protest. The pain was suddenly replaced by numbness and he sighed in relief as he felt the world drift away.

*****

He awoke in the asylum's infirmary, strapped to a bed. His whole body was sore and he could feel thick bandages wrapped around his torso. It made breathing difficult for a different reason, but the pain was a lot less intense then it had been.

He felt a slow burning anger building up within him. He had to heal. Then he had to escape. If the orderlies were fired, he would have to find someone to hack into their database, because he had no clue where to look. The place was too big to be searching for an office full of files while trying to escape. He would find out where each one of them lived later and pay them a nice visit.

But first, he was going to have to behave, as humiliating as it was. Perhaps they would keep him in his room until he was better. Perhaps he should refuse to leave it until he was ready. That way he could avoid temptation altogether. He knew he would react like a rabid dog the moment anyone came near him. A good ass-kicking usually did that to him. After a month or so he would calm down and return to his normal state.

It wasn't fear that motivated him, but pure fury. Those who hurt him must be repaid ten-fold. It was his most strictly obeyed rule. Until he got his revenge he was possessed with hatred, unable to be his usual capricious self.

He closed his eyes, wearily. He was so tired, but he'd just woken up. He had an assortment of tubes sticking out of his body at various places and he wondered how long he'd been asleep. He heard someone coming closer and was shocked that he was too exhausted to even look annoyed. She almost walked right past him, but suddenly did a double-take and gasped.

"Your awake!" she exclaimed. He rolled his eyes and his mouth twisted into a frown. "How do you feel?" she asked and he studied her a moment. Medium height, with dark hair and tan skin, small boobs, big ass, average- but cute face.. But most important- fear, trepidation in her eyes. He shrugged, suddenly relieved that he could do that at least without pain.

"I'm thirsty." he croaked, his throat aching. She nodded and disappeared, returning moments later with a glass of water with a straw. She stopped at his bedside and pushed a button, lifting the back of the mattress so he was sitting upright. The sudden shift in weight made him cringe in pain. The nurse placed a tube with a button on the end within his reach.

"For pain," she said, he pressed the button several times in a row. "It's set to a timer. You can only use it once every four hours." she held the cup of water and the straw to lips that were already opening to protest. He greedily sucked down the contents of the small cup, sighing in relief. He tensed for a moment, expecting pain, then realized the drugs...

*****

The nurse smiled as she watched the pain and anger melt from his face. His eyelids began to droop and he yawned. "Get some rest.." she said, but he was already almost out. She put the bed flat and stared at him a moment longer. "He's... so young." she commented in amazement. She had been afraid to check on him until she'd found out that several orderlies had taken him into the showers and beat him within an inch of his life. He was utterly helpless at the moment, it was the only reason she'd agreed.

Now she stared at him, fascinated. He was much younger than she'd assumed, given the horrible things he'd done. They had spoken of maturity, of years of spiraling madness that had culminated in horribly tragic events. She had seen him with his makeup on, and she had been terrified when she'd found out he was coming to Arkham. He was a monster, a demon, something vile and twisted and completely corrupt.

It was difficult to believe he was so evil at the moment. The terrible scars marred an otherwise gorgeous face. It was a shame, really. In her mind it was obvious that he was a product of horrible abuse. She was no psychiatrist, but she had seen the tragic results many times in the ten years she'd worked with the mentally ill. Those scars went deep and never really went away. But it had to be easier to deal with when you didn't have to stare at them every time you looked in a mirror.

*****

By the next day they set his drug supply to every six hours. He had begun to shout, but cringed moments later. His features twisted into a pout when the pain slowly abated, but he did not complain after that. He said very little, he spent most of his time drifting in and out of a drug haze and consciousness.

Days went by in this manner. At the end of the week his 'stash' as he'd called it, was gone. He was annoyed, but not altogether displeased. He wanted to heal after all. He needed to get away from this place and the pain it had caused him. The better he felt, the more anxious he grew. As the ache faded from his body he began to try to slip his restraints. He'd lost weight, he'd been lying in bed forever it seemed. The thought of trying to rise and failing made his gut clench.

There was only one way to get out of his restraints. His face immediately soured at the idea, but he would never escape if he was strapped in bed every day. He was going to have to behave... And he was going to have to be convincing. He didn't have to cower like a whipped dog, but he had to control his temper at all times- enough to convince them that he didn't have to be chained up all day.

It would take enormous will power and some pretty amazing acting skills. But if he succeeded..

"Hehehe.." he giggled quietly.

*****

When he heard someone approaching he sat up, face eager. It was the doctor who had found him in the padded room.

"You look much better." he said, smiling. And it was true, his eyes were lit up, no longer clouded with pain and drugs. But he'd lost weight, and his skin was still discolored with fading bruises.

"I want to get up." he said quickly, eager to blow off idle chit-chat. The doctor seemed surprised.

"Maybe in a few days-" he went silent at the look of disappointment on the Joker's face.

"Please?" he said softly, his eyes dropping in embarrassment.

"Uh.. I guess it would be alright for a little bit." The bespeckled man mumbled, shocked. "I'll call an orderly.." he trailed off again as a wince passed over the Joker's face.

"I don't really think I can run." he muttered, his expression sullen. The doctor laughed quietly.

"I'm sure you can't, this is for your safety, not mine. Your still healing, and this is too soon in my opinion. I'm willing to bet you get dizzy within five minutes, and I can't carry you back here if you faint." he said, his expression amused. The younger man seethed inwardly, yet his expression was slightly baffled and almost... wounded. "I know you might have... reservations about the orderlies..." he paused as color flushed the Joker's pale skin. "ButI can assure you, those men have been fired and are currently awaiting their court dates at Gotham County-" he broke off when the Joker's eyes bulged and his breathing rapidly accelerated.

The fools were in prison- how in the hell was he going to get to them in there? And worse yet- they would tell other inmates what they did to him...

He felt a hand on the back of his neck, forcing his head between his knees and he suddenly realized he was hyperventilating. He couldn't think, the room was buzzing around him and the edges of his vision were going gray. He felt someone petting his curly locks again and again.

"Calm down, just calm down.." someone kept saying. A part of him was detached, as if observing from outside. He was slightly shocked at his own reaction, maybe he really was losing his mind.

Finally his breathing began to slow until it was coming in short, jagged bursts. The dizziness was fading, his sight was clearing. He realized more than one set of hands was on him and he wanted to recoil from their touch, but he was as limp as a de-boned fish. He had exhausted himself, he couldn't see himself standing for a moment much less walking anywhere.

When his breathing finally calmed the hands pushed him back until he was lying flat again. His eyelids fluttered shut instantly and soon he was asleep.

*****

Dr. Arkham, the nurse, and the orderly all exchanged shocked glances.

"What would cause him to have a panic attack?" Nurse Swanson asked, her voice emphasizing the shock they all felt.

"He wanted revenge... That's all I can think of, but to become that upset over it... Lower his dosage, we need to speak to him, and he's been in and out of consciousness for too long."

"But, doctor-" Jerry Hain, the orderly, began.

"We'll keep him in restraints, even the straight jacket if necessary." Arkham continued as he left the room.

*****

He awoke in his cell. But for once there was a difference. He was lying on his side. He hadn't been able to lie on his side since he'd come to Arkham. He was in a different bed, he was not restrained in any way. His hands rose to hover in front of him as he stared in amazement, then rose of their own accord as he stretched. He sighed in satisfaction when his back cracked and he felt no pain. He sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed. He wobbled unsteadily for a moment when he stood, and a brief bout of dizziness hit him, but he ignored it.

He began to pace his cell, it was a habit he had formed years ago when boredom struck. After a half hour he stopped and slid under his bed, there were metal cross bars underneath that could be used as weapons if he could unscrew them. He scrambled to his feet and trotted to the door to peek out his small window. The hall seemed empty and he went back to his bed and lay underneath, trying to get a grip on a bolt and twist it free. Every one was stuck in place rather well and after an hour of struggling he'd come no closer to dislodging any of them. His fingertips ached from the strain. He scowled furiously as he stood, but another idea struck him as he eyed the metal frame.

He had no time to act on it though as he heard a key slide into the metal lock. The door opened and two orderlies stood outside. One carrying a straight-jacket, the other, a taser. He forced a smile and held his empty hands up, it was time to start behaving.

TBC

A/N: Thanks to everyone for all the reviews, especially you, 4ofcups!


	5. Chapter 5

TITLE: Mask

AUTHOR: Kichi

RATING: M

PAIRING (if applicable): Joker/OC

NOTES: NOLAN-VERSE I simply adore Heath Ledger's Joker. So should you... :D

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: Ok so the first few days have begun to add up to a bit more so: Joker's first stay at Arkham.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, I make no money from writing this, so don't be a douche and sue me or something. And as for the toys, well, me and my brother own them- still. the lyrics are from Marilyn Manson's 'Man that you fear'

5

I have it all and I have no choice but to  
I'll make everyone pay and you will see  
you can kill yourself now  
because you're dead in my mind  
the boy that you loved is the monster you fear

He was bored already. Questions, questions, questions. What were his parents like? Oh, that isn't what you told us earlier.. Bla bla bla. He wanted to puke. He wanted to snap his chains and slice them all to pieces. His hands clenched as he thought about strangling them.

Them. The doctors. And not just any doctors, the bigwigs, the rich, educated, impeccable, prying, nosy, arrogant, insufferable bastards. The lot of them. He was trussed up before them, shackled and chained to the floor. Two orderlies stood on either side of him as he again sat in a chair before the panel. They were shooting questions at him, one after another- hoping, praying he would let something slip. All the while they were all scribbling madly on papers before them.

"Were you ever abused as a child?" His tongue shot out of his mouth and dragged across his upper lip.

"Mm, yes, my mother wanted a little girl so she bought me 'Barbie' and 'my little pony' and 'care bears' instead of 'transformers' and 'G.I. Joe's' when I was a kid. Look what happened!" he cried, his hands thrown in the air in mock horror. Laughter burst from him for a moment.

"What was your father like?"

"Hitler."

"Did you ever experience bed wetting problems as a child?" he couldn't contain a snicker at that one.

"I don't think of it as a problem- some chicks like it." he guffawed, slapping his knee.

"Are you capable of answering a question truthfully?"

"Yes. No. I don't know! Um. Ah. Yes?" he jingled his chains.

"Do you ever feel anxiety or nervousness?" he shrugged.

"No, never. Well, maybe sometimes, but don't tell anyone or I'll chop your tits off." The woman who'd questioned him didn't appear fazed by the comment. It irritated him, he needed to put the fear of Joker into all of them.

"Does any one in your family have a history of mental illness?"

"Yup."

"Were they a direct relation?"

"Perrr-haps."

"Do you ever have trouble sleeping?" he snorted in disgust.

"Not since I got here."

"So you did before." it wasn't a question.

"I'm too busy sometimes, people to blow up, you know." he waved a hand dismissively.

"Do you ever feel bad for all the people you hurt?" his sneer widened to a full-blown grin.

"Never."

"Have you ever become violent as a result of boredom?"

"Sure." he seemed pleased at that, if his smile was any indication.

"Have you ever sustained any severe injuries as a result of carelessness?"

"Maybe, a bit."

"Your facial scarring-"

"You want to know how I got my scars?" he perked up a bit.

"Of course- if your willing-"

"My mom got remarried to this man who hadn't a decent bone in his body. I saw him shoot a man in our kitchen when I was maybe seven years old. He used to beat up my mom a lot when he got drunk. I didn't like it, so one night I tried to stop him. Now- he was a pretty big guy, built like a brick shit house, you know? He picked me up and tossed me at the wall like a football. I remember waking up to him hovering over me with a knife. I opened my mouth to scream and he popped the knife right into my open mouth and sliced this side." he raised his cuffed hands to trace the low, curved slice on the right side of his face. "On this side-" he indicated the puckered scars on the left. "He stabbed that side first and began to saw it a bit." a few faces looked green, with the exception of Dr. Arkham who was watching him intently. He smiled brightly at him, offering a wink.

"That isn't what you told me the other day, I believe you claimed it was your stepmother." Dr. Arkham said, the Joker just shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"Whatever- it's confused- doesn't matter anyway.." The last part was mumbled.

"What was that-?" Dr. Arkham pressed.

"It- doesn't- matter." he said, louder.

"And why is that?"

"I'm not that person anymore. At all."

"Physically-" Joker snorted.

"In every aspect."

"Have you ever been in a relationship for a year or more?" he shrugged again.

"Maybe." he appeared annoyed by the question.

"Have you engaged in sexual intercourse with ten or more different partners in twelve months or less?"

"Heh, are you calling me a whore or something?" his tongue darted out to prod a scar.

"Of course not, we're asking a simple question."

"Well I'm sick of answering. I'm bored."

"Just a few more-"

"And what do I get out of it, huh?" he snarled, the guttural roar freezing the assembly of doctors in their places for a moment as a chill of terror raced up their spines. "Give me my makeup back!"

"Patients are not allowed-"

"Fuck you then! And fuck your god damn questions!" he roared, his temper exploding. He bolted to his feet and began to struggle with his chains. The orderlies immediately shoved him back into his seat. He kicked as much as he was able and tried repeatedly to hit them until they both grabbed a wrist and held him. He growled and spat and cursed until two more orderlies came in bearing a straight jacket.

The moment he was uncuffed he used all his strength to try and pull free, but the men maintained their grip. He howled in fury as they put the straight jacket on. He wriggled and bucked wildly but all four of them were holding him and Dr. Arkham began to buckle him in.

"I hate you! I fuckin hate you, mother fuckers!" he screamed.

"Take him to the violent ward. I've heard enough."

"Fuck You!!" he shrieked as they uncuffed him. He began to kick until the men caught his legs fast. They carried him out as he continued to wail.

*****

They tossed him in a padded cell. For hours he struggled with the straight jacket. Pausing only when his gasps for air grew painful. At least they were providing him a workout. And he was positive he would escape the jacket, it wasn't impossible. He just... didn't know how. He was jubilant when he got his left wrist over his elbow, but he couldn't move much more so he began to tug with the right sleeve as hard as he could. After several minutes of struggling he gave up and lie still, panting in exhaustion. He was covered in sweat. He wriggled uncomfortably when the strap between his legs felt like it was jammed up his ass. When his breathing slowed he began to struggle again.

Soon he realized he couldn't get the damn thing off. He was tired and sweaty and out of breath.

"I hate this place." he said aloud, his voice sounding weak and strange in his ears. "When I get out of here the bat and I are going to have quite a bit to discuss."

He didn't give up for what seemed like hours. He hadn't loosened the damn thing a bit. His frustration was quickly boiling over to rage. He couldn't remember feeling quite so helpless. A horrible feeling of anguish filled him and he felt his throat constrict and his eyes begin to fill with moisture.

"No," he moaned softly. Pathetic tears were the last thing he needed. The doctors were bent on humiliating him into compliance it seemed. Anger filled him and his tears dried before they fell. He slammed the back of his head into the floor. No pain, no release from the agonizing feelings. He was alone with nothing to distract him. It was hell. He thought of the bat, thought of wehat he would do to him when they finally met again. No complicated schemes would be involved. He was going to escape and go on a rampage until the bat came to stop him. And when he did, Joker was going to do everything in his power to carve him a matching smile.

The thought made him smile, then a giggle escaped his lips which grew until he was laughing hysterically, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"We'll be twins!" he cried amidst his laughter. "BFF's" his laughter grew to a roar. Finally his laughter began to die down and he realized his stomach was aching. And he realized he was exhausted, he finally closed his eyes and slept.

*****

He was awoken by guards standing above him. Before he was fully coherent they hauled him to his feet, supporting him as he yawned and blinked wearily.

"Wha-?" He mumbled.

"Dr. Arkham wants to speak to you."

"Hooray for me." he muttered.

Soon he was seated in a familiar office, his stomach roared loudly and for a moment the good Doctor looked up from the papers piled on his desk and smiled. Joker growled, showing his teeth.

"Are you feeling a little better this morning?" Joker snarled and struggled in vain with his straight jacket. "If you can behave yourself I can have it removed. It seemed a better option after your violent reaction to the Seroquel."

"So, what's up, doc?" he spat, his expression annoyed.

"It is the finding of the panel that you suffer from antisocial personality and malignant narcissistic behavioral disorders-"

"Are you saying I'm a psycho?"

"The term is 'antisocial personality disorder'-"

"So..."

"Insane and psychopath are no longer much used clinical terms-"

"But your saying I'm messed up-" he tapped a temple.

"I would never say something like that-"

"So, what would you say?"

"I'd say your stay here will be indefinite, the board will go before a judge tomorrow. You are incompetent to stand trial-" a short bark of laughter erupted from the Joker. Dr. Arkham sighed. "You need the treatment we will provide, and any medication we give you will also be necessary-"

"Bullshit!" he snarled.

"You posses many of the traits, and, I'm sorry to tell you this-"

"Your lying! There's nothing wrong with me-" Dr. Arkham said nothing for a moment, only studied the younger man's face as denial shone out in his eyes. It seemed a few examples were necessary, not that he thought it would make a difference.

"You show a complete lack of remorse or guilt for any of your actions that led to your incarceration. You murdered people! And you don't care at all. You don't think there's any reason not to murder innocent-"

"I did them a favor-"Joker cut in, his face darkening with anger.

"Your grandiose sense of self-worth, you're cunning and extremely manipulative. Let's see, you've shown criminal versatility, aggressive and violent tendencies with a sever lack of empathy- In my opinion you have no conscience whatsoever. You show a reckless disregard for the safety of yourself and others. You clearly display impulse control problems and an inability to tolerate boredom. You also have shown symptoms of malignant narcissism- demonstrations of joyful cruelty and sadism, paranoia, aggression, a need for power- and the lying! The constant story telling! These are all tell-tale signs. We're putting you on a course of drugs and therapy, and if your condition deteriorates further, we have the means to deal with it, rest assured."

"I hate your fucking guts." he snapped.

"Anger is a common response. Your denial is as well-"

"This is bull shit." Joker muttered, shaking his head.

"Do you enjoy being locked in your room at all times?" Dr. Arkham asked, the young man didn't respond, but his expression hardened, he might have well just said 'no'. "The drugs will help you calm down."

"I don't want any." he snapped, his hands clenched into fists.

"You already know we can force you to take them. Why fight constantly? You don't have to."

"Why not? I said no! It's a great reason!"

"Do you like being so angry all the time?" the younger man snorted and smiled briefly.

"I guess I do. How can I not be angry? I hate it here. I want out." the last three words were growled out menacingly.

"You actions have put you here. No one forced you to do all those terrible things." A condescending smirk appeared on the Joker's face, he began to giggle wildly.

"That was a masterpiece! You ignorant fool!" he began to laugh again as the doctor's eyes widened in disbelief. "That was the best thing I've done so far! Look what I did to Dent! That was.." he licked his lips, his smile was exultant.

"That man didn't deserve-"

"But the best part was when he flipped a coin to decide whether or not to kill me, then I knew he was finally seeing things my way!" he gushed, bouncing in his seat, and giggling again. "That wasn't half as fun as Batman though! The fool never wavered in his beliefs, which I find so... Endearing. Hm." he broke into another peal of laughter. "For a moment I thought he really meant to kill me..." his tongue darted out to prod a scar. "It was so much fun.." he all but purred. The whole memory seemed to calm him immensely. But the joy quickly faded from his face as he turned his attention back to Arkham. "This place is sucking the fun right out of me. I can't deny it. But I have my ways as well. And you'll never beat me. Ever."

"We're not-"

"I want to go back to my room now." he announced loudly.

"Very well."

*****

He'd done it. He'd torn the canvas of the straight-jacket. He was drenched in sweat and breathless from the struggle, but there was now a small tear just beneath a buckle attached to his sleeve. The orderlies had given him his dinner, let him use the bathroom, and then had strapped him right back in the damned thing. He hated it. It made it difficult to take a deep breath, he had a perpetual wedgie, it was torture. A fairly mild form, but torture none the less.

The moment they had shoved him in his room he began to struggle with the thing, snarling and spitting as he tugged and twisted. He threw himself at the padded walls a few times in his frustration. But then he'd gotten an idea. He knew it was likely stupid and would prove ineffectual, but he was willing to try anything. He forced his arms as far away from his body and wedged his knee between his chest and his arms and began to push with all his might. When he was sure his wrists or forearms would snap he heard a faint sound of cloth ripping.

After several minutes of lying in a sweaty heap he began to tug with all his might. The tear began to widen.

TBC..

A/N: all the diagnoses are bullshit- I know nothing. Although I must admit this is the first fanfic I've ever done research for. I hope it helped!


	6. Chapter 6

TITLE: Mask

AUTHOR: Kichi

RATING: M

PAIRING (if applicable): Joker/OC

NOTES: NOLAN-VERSE I simply adore Heath Ledger's Joker. So should you... :D

ARCHIVE:

SUMMARY: Ok so the first few days have begun to add up to a bit more so: Joker's first stay at Arkham.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, I make no money from writing this, so don't be a douche and sue me or something.

WARNING: this chapter contains a reprehensible amount of smut, violence, rape, murder, mayhem, etc.

the clouds will part and the sky cracks open  
and god himself will reach his fucking arm through  
just to push you down  
just to hold you down  
stuck in this hole with the shit and the piss  
and it's hard to believe it could come down to this

back at the beginning  
sinking  
spinning

6 - the wretched

Sometimes he astonished himself. He didn't know where he got the reserve energy from, but things began to go rather quickly once the straight jacket tore. He soon had one sleeve free and from there he tore through the piece between his legs.

That part had been tricky and he had accidentally tugged too hard at one point and had fallen to his knees with a howl, sure he'd crushed his balls irreparably. After several minutes he resumed his struggles with more care and finally located the seam. He tore it much easier than the buckle attached to his sleeve. After that it was easy to get the whole thing off.

He chortled merrily and danced around for a moment in his triumph. He had only a while to wait before breakfast. He was tired, and the wait was long and dull, but he was soon rewarded by the sound of a lock sliding into place. His door swung open and an orderly entered gaping in shock. He lunged at the man and caught him off guard, knocking him to the floor. He began to pummel the man furiously, barking laughter tearing from his throat.

He saw someone in his peripheral vision and instantly was upon them. He drove his clenched fist into the man's groin and leapt to his feet as the man fell and began to kick and stomp them both.

Suddenly he was tackled to the floor. He bucked wildly and quickly loosed the third orderlies hold and surged to his feet, laughing wildly. He dashed to the door and froze, trying to pivot as something long and black swung at him.

He heard a piercing shriek, but he was more concerned with the fact that he was frozen in place, yet his muscles were jerking agonizingly. He collapsed and when another scream rang out he realized it was him.

The sudden silence was quickly filled with gasping breath and he vaguely felt himself being lifted and dragged out of his room.

"What're we gonna do with him?"

"Andy's room, damn it!"

"Road-haul!"

"No, you idiots! I ain't goin' to jail for this piece of shit." There was silence as they thought of an appropriate punishment. Joker, meanwhile was trying to regain his equilibrium. He was giving off those gasping moans again, despite his struggle for control himself. He despised weakness and sentiment made him retch. Showing anything close to anyone in anything other than mockery was like a kick in the balls. He hated it. He hated them. He tried to pull his wrists free and they stopped and a boot slammed into his side. The orderly hit the soft section between his rib cage and hip bone and he emitted a strangled squeak. The orderlies laughed and he spat furiously, hitting the man holding his ankles. He kicked viciously and thrashed and began to break their hold again.

"Mother fucker!" One spat and he was kicked again in the same spot. His struggles only paused for a moment. The put him down and began to punch him.

"Let's. Give him. To Andy!" one snarled between punches. His attempts to block and fight back were only half successful. Until he caught the eldest man by his arm and sank his teeth into a hairy forearm. The man's shriek rang in his ears. Then he felt that horrible pain again. Right under his ear, just behind his jaw. Releasing his victim eased the pain and then someone grabbed him by his hair and yanked him back. The orderlies blood dripped down his chin and stained his shirt. He heard the name repeated again and again.

"Andy's-"

"Andy's room-"

"Yeah, that's right, asshole- your fuckin' in for it now!" They dragged him down the hall to another patient's room, quickly unlocked it and shoved him inside. He crashed to the floor, and heard the door lock behind him.

"Have fun, Andy!" someone yelled on the other side of the door. He heard a low chuckle and suddenly a large shadow loomed over him.

"Pretty, oh, so pretty." he heard a deep voice murmur. He tried to focus, tried to push himself up so he was not lying sprawled on the floor, completely vulnerable. He felt large hands on him and them he was cradled in a massive man's arms as if he weighed no more than a child.

Suddenly everything clicked when he felt himself drop onto a bed and the hulking beast climbed on top of him.

"No!" he choked, but he was instantly pinned down. The man had at least a hundred pounds on him and when he pressed his knee into the scarred mans chest and bore his weight down, Joker knew he could easily snap all his ribs and drive the broken pieces straight into his lungs. "No!" he wheezed anyway and kicked his legs madly. He felt large hands tearing his pants and underwear off. "No, no, no!" he screamed, until one of the hands locked around his throat.

In seconds he was frantic for air, his face was turning purple, and spots blinked before his eyes. When he was sure he was about to lose consciousness, the pressure disappeared and he lay gasping for air. He was unable to struggle as he was rolled onto his stomach, but when he felt his hips being pulled up a ragged sob tore from his throat and he began to kick again.

"So, so pretty.." the voice murmured.

"Don't touch me!" Joker shrieked frantically as he felt the other man's erection press against his ass. The man laughed and skewered him. The pain was terrible and it quickly grew to be agonizing as the man began to thrust into his already battered body with all his strength. He felt himself tearing and moaned in agony. He felt his blood dripping down his thighs. "No.. He choked, burying his face in his hands.

It seemed to go on forever, but the reality was that his assailant came quickly. As soon as Andy released him and slid out he fell upon the mattress with a whimper. He was rolled onto his back. He snarled and tried to roll away but Andy merely grabbed his hip and clutched it so tightly Joker went rigid with pain. He didn't let go until the scarred man collapsed again.

His shirt was suddenly rent down the middle and the other inmate had his hands all over him. Each struggle was met with a painful retaliation. "Stop it!" Joker howled, unable to see through a haze of tears. The man giggled quietly.

"No." and he felt the man's tongue caress his stomach. He cringed and tried to pull away.

"Haven't you fucking done enough?!"

"Not yet." and the man's lips wrapped around his cock. He began to weep in earnest.

"Don't! Stop it!" he groaned, kicking uselessly. He was coming undone. The man's efforts were completely wasted. He got no response from his victim.

The young man was frozen stiff. He'd finally realized that here he had no control. He could not stop fighting them. He would sooner die. But at the moment they were winning. He had to escape.

"Your turn." he heard the huge man murmur and he realized suddenly the man's cock was about an inch from his face. He blinked in surprise and then something clicked. His hand shot out and grabbed the man's erection and with a rabid snarl, tore it off. The man's shriek was deafening, and the wave of blood that suddenly spattered him was warm. He lurched to his feet and shoved the deviant backwards. Movement was agony, but he refused to give up. He searched the room for his pants. Pulling them on drew more whimpers from him, but his tormentors agonized moans made him feel a little better. The feeling vanished instantly as he hobbled to the door. There was no way out. He knocked, hoping they would think he was Andy and let him out.

"Done already?" he heard someone call. He heard the key turning in the lock and tensed. He couldn't fight. He was in agony. He could barely move. He was bleeding, he could feel it. His mind was shutting down, he was moving through pure will. His tears had dried and now he stared blankly, his face empty. The orderly opened the door and he lurched out, the only sign of his discomfort a strangled gasp. He barreled into the orderly and past him right into the grasp of two other's.

"Looks like he got his cherry busted all right!" one began to laugh.

"He killed Andy!" He didn't hear much after that. He only felt. He dimly saw, time passed through pain. He felt a cry slip past his lips as he was dragged to the infirmary. When they stitched him up he felt that. When they put him in a bed in the infirmary he tried to sleep. They had given him a sedative and he was tired. But the instant his eyes closed he went right back to Andy's room. Something irreparable had been done to him. Again. When would it end? He'd thought he was done with that part of his life. Would he never escape from it? He was not meant to be the victim! He was sick of being the victim.

"This is it." he murmured to himself. He had to escape. He had to. He could see how easy it would be to fall into madness in this place. Every time he exerted his will he was trampled underfoot. How long could he continue before he cracked completely? He had always imagined that no institution could ever break him, but the idea was starting to look like a distinct possibility.

The lights were shutting off everywhere. He heard a few pathetic moans from other patients in the room. He was secured to the bed, but loosely. They knew he wasn't going anywhere. The bitterness of that realization twisted his features into a dark frown. The sharp longing to escape made his chest ache terribly for a moment.

"I hate this place." he gasped.

He was in the infirmary for two weeks. For the duration he refused to talk to anyone. Anyone who attempted conversation was ignored or he merely glared at them hatefully and tried to slip his bonds. The only good thing about the infirmary was he was fed constantly. He had lost weight and hadn't really noticed until he realized he was having to force himself to finish everything on his plate. He also got to shower alone which was an immense relief. The thought of having to shower with other potential perverts was a horrifying one. And when he realized that he was fearful of certain things because of the vile Andy, he flew into a rage. But instead of kicking and screaming as he usually did, something worse happened.

He began to cry.

One moment he had been filled with overpowering fury, the next, tears begun to spill down his cheeks. He had sat in his bed in horrified silence, his expression pained and confused. The damage was worse than he'd realized. He punched himself in the head.

"Stop crying, pussy." he snarled. The action did nothing. So he'd sat, head bowed, face contorted in rage as tears silently coursed down his face. A young nurse who'd been attending him had found him that way. When he felt her small hand petting his wild curls, he'd recoiled violently, striking the back of his head on the metal bed frame in his haste to get away. When he'd realized that he'd gotten scared because a woman touched him, he lost it.

He heard the strangest hiccuping gasp coming from him, he couldn't stop it, and he would probably be completely accurate if he'd said he'd never reacted so in his life. _I think I'm having a nervous breakdown_.. He thought in shock. When the pretty, young nurse sat beside him on his bed and pulled him into her arms he knew it was bad. But he couldn't seem to stop himself from weeping brokenly like a lost child. He felt a vague sense of peace for a moment when she allowed him to use her chest as a pillow and her hand continued to stroke his tangled curls. He could feel the vibration from her chest as she spoke, but couldn't make out any words over the choked gasps that continued to come from him.

Finally he began to calm, and as he did he began to listen to her words.

"-can't bear to watch this anymore. This isn't the middle ages. What their doing is wrong! You need help, not more abuse. It's sick." He almost laughed. What he couldn't bear was the relentless tears. And the way he clung to her as if he'd die without her.

"I can't stop." he murmured, swiping at his eyes. "Last time I didn't cry for ten years. Why can't I stop?"

"Last time?" he heard her croak. She continued to pet his hair for a moment before she pushed him back and stood. The expression on his face must have been pitiful, for she reassuringly pet his hair again. Then she began to fumble with her keys and then unlocked his restraints. She went over to the window and unlocked the metal grate barring them from the glass. Then she forced the window open. He was already on his feet and making his way over. He was still in pain, but it was easily ignored. His heart was pounding with excitement. The pain and misery that had been his constant companion seemed to evaporate. He could still feel it ready to pounce and he knew that it would the moment his joy faded. But when he was free there was so much amusement to be had. He felt a weight lifting from him and for the first time in weeks he smiled.

"I know I shouldn't- I know what you did before you came here. But I also know I have to do this. I have to. I don't know what it is-" he pulled her close and kissed her. When her knees buckled and she melted against him, he understood. Sexual desire motivated her, nothing more. She was a sweet girl. She really was. In a way he felt grateful to her. But she had also seen him at his weakest. His face was still red from crying, his eyes burning, but he had to admit, she had helped. It was odd, and he felt like being merciful and letting her be, but the thought of her telling anyone about this- No.

That could not happen.

His hands locked around her throat and she began to fight him. His joy at his imminent escape made him a little reckless and he heard something snap. She wasn't dead yet, but he could release her and she would suffocate anyway. He kissed her forehead as her eyes rooled up and she began to convulse savagely.

"Thank you, sweet girl. You've really helped me. I mean it." he sighed softly and climbed out the window. The breeze was warm and the moon was nowhere to be seen. The forest that surrounded him was dark and inviting. So many places to hide, so easy to get far, far away.

For the first time in a long time, the Joker began to laugh.

THE END!!!

A/N: Don't hate me! First of all I want to say I will be starting another story that deals with the events that take place after this. I want those guards to get some and Batman too! Also, don't be mad that I had Andy rape him. He's too good looking under that makeup to not get raped! I know it's fucked up- I know. Hahah. Plus you have to admit, they did warn him, right? He kinda asked for it!

Anyway, he's got a lot of pain and pent up rage to unleash on Gotham and Batman so it should be lots of fun.

Also! I want to thank everyone who reviewed, I should flush you guys cause you're the shit!


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